Chapter 39 #2
Then I lather her shin and calf with careful hands, making sure the soap coats every inch before I gently press the razor to her skin.
The first stroke reveals a path of silken skin, gleaming wet in the shower’s light.
I continue with meticulous care, my movements slow, precise, reverent—each scrape of the blade a promise written into her flesh.
Her breathing stays even, controlled, but I can feel the tension vibrating through her, the vulnerability she’s offering without saying a single word. Each time I adjust her leg, she allows it, yielding to me inch by precious inch.
When I finish the first leg, I press my lips to the inside of her ankle, letting my teeth graze the delicate bone there.
Her breath hitches, her pupils dilating as she watches me through the steam.
I move to her other leg, repeating the process with the same careful devotion, mapping her contours with blade and hand and breath.
As I finish the final stroke, she tugs her leg free from my grasp, already shaking her head before I can even ask, making it clear she won’t let me shave anywhere else. The dark landing strip between her thighs remains untouched, a boundary she isn’t ready to surrender.
I slide my hands up her thighs, my mouth following the path my fingers blaze. She tries to press her knees together, but I’m already between them, my shoulders keeping her spread open for me.
“I love you exactly as you are,” I murmur against her clit.
She gasps. “You love me?”
Frowning, I look up at her. I’m pretty sure I’ve told her over and over that I love her. I mean, I’ve said she’s mine, that’s fucking synonymous.
“Yes,” I rasp. “I love you, Piper.”
“H-how can you love me when you don’t even know me?” She lifts her hips, trying to grind against my face. But I pull away, denying both of us. “Tell me,” she demands breathlessly.
“I do know you,” I answer, blowing air against her sex, making her shiver. “I know you act like you hate when I lick right here.” Pausing, I press my tongue to her clit for a brief moment.
“Enzo!”
My cock throbs, and I’m tempted to wrap one hand around the base, but this isn’t about me. It’s not even about pleasure. I’m determined to show my toy once and for all what she means to me, and the maddeningly perfect sex we have is just one aspect of our relationship.
“And I know you whimper so fucking prettily when I use my teeth. And when you can’t take it anymore,” I growl, “you ride my face like you want to smother me with your cunt. Like you’re desperate to do right now.”
“Am not…” Her denial dies the moment she realizes I’m right. She’s rotating her hips. “Okay, you got me there. But you don’t know where I grew up, or if I have any phobias.”
Chu ckling, I carry on. “I know you’re from Connecticut.”
“Google will tell you that.”
“Your uncle Teddy,” I rasp, “was the first man who treated you like you mattered.”
She jerks, her moan catching on a sob, her hands finding my hair, yanking at the strands like she doesn’t know whether to pull me closer or shove me away. I fucking love the way she’s making me hurt for her.
“You grew up starving for love you never got, carving yourself hollow just to be enough,” I continue. “And you hate the color yellow because your mother wore it when she threw you out.”
Her back stiffens, and she lets out a sob. “W-what?”
I lift my face and look up at her so she can see the truth in my eyes. “I know you, Toy. Better than you know yourself.”
“Is that so?” she volleys.
I nod. “Yes, it’s so. Right now, you want me to distract you with orgasms. And even though I’d love nothing more, I’m not going to.”
She pouts so prettily. “Why not? I want to come.”
“Because,” I pause to press a kiss to her inner thigh. “We both already know I know your body better than you do. Now, I want you to understand just how precious you are to me, and how well I do know you.”
When she tries to turn away, I catch her chin, my grip firm, wet, unforgiving, dragging her back to me like a sinner to confession.
“This is the only thing that matters, Toy,” I breathe, slowly rising to my feet. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Blood, bone, fucking destiny.”
I lift her from the shower bench, feeling her weight settle perfectly in my grip, her skin slick beneath my palms. Her body fits against mine like a missing piece returned to its rightful place—wet, warm, and trembling.
There’s a heaviness in my chest as she wraps herself around me, a dark satisfaction that burns beneath my ribs. This is what I’ve waited for. This is what I knew would happen from the moment I first saw her.
Water sheets down her back as I shift my grip, my palm flattening against her slick spine, the curve of her ass fitting perfectly into my hand like it was carved there just for me. My cock aches, leaking with my need for her, but I still ignore it.
She clings to me, arms winding tight around my neck, her breath hot against my throat. Her legs lock around my hips, thighs squeezing. “Enzo,” she whispers, her voice breaking on my name.
I turn, pressing her back to the cold tiles. Her gasp is immediate, her body arching instinctively toward me, seeking heat, seeking me . Her hair is plastered to her neck, water beading on her collarbone before trailing down between her tits. I watch one droplet’s journey, mesmerized.
“Look at me,” I command.
She does, those green eyes locking with mine—half-lidded, hungry . For the first time, there’s no hesitation. My toy’s finally accepting what I’ve been telling her all along; she’s mine.
“Fuck. Piper,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
I capture her mouth in a brutal kiss, a battle of lips and teeth and tongue. I devour her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, swallowing her gasps. Her tongue slides against mine, challenging, surrendering, then challenging again.
My toy pulls back, locking her gaze on mine. “I need to know how you know all those things about me?”
“After I first saw you, I investigated every aspect of your life,” I admit, my voice steady despite the fire in my veins.
“You did what?”
I nod. “I did a complete background check. Your educational records. Your medical history. Your favorite coffee order.”
“Keep going,” she urges.
“Then I broke in and installed cameras all over your apartment,” I admit. “Sometimes I watched you through the feed. But other times, I came here and watched you sleep.”
Her eyes widen slightly, but not with shock—with recognition. As if something has finally clicked into place. For a moment, I think she might push me away, might finally decide that my obsession crosses some line she can’t accept.
She bites my bottom lip, savage and sure, sending a sharp sting straight to my groin. When she releases my lip, her eyes are dark with something wilder than lust. “From now on,” she says, her voice strong, “you ask me. If there’s something about me you want to know, you ask me directly.”
“I promise,” I vow, and mean it.
She rewards me by leaning forward, teeth grazing the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder. Then she bites down. The sting of it is delicious, unexpected. My hips jerk forward involuntarily as she gasps against my skin; the sound vibrating through my body.
“Again,” I growl, and she obliges, biting down harder, sucking the spot. The thought of wearing her brand, of everyone seeing the evidence of her passion on my skin, sends a surge of possessive pleasure through me.
Water drums against our bodies, the air thick and heady with heat. The glass separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom is completely fogged. The world outside this shower stall is irrelevant. Nothing exists beyond her body against mine.
I slide one hand up, trailing over her ribs, between her breasts, before wrapping around her throat. I don’t squeeze—I don’t need to. The weight of my hand there, the implicit control, is enough.
For several heartbeats, we remain frozen like this—her back against the wall, her legs around my hips, my hand still loosely encircling her throat . The water begins to cool, but I can’t bring myself to move yet. To separate my body from hers feels sacrilege.
When I finally look at her, her eyes are heavy-lidded, but clear. There’s no regret there, no second thoughts. Just a quiet certainty that mirrors my own. This was inevitable. This was right.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers. “Mine,” I whisper, not as a question, not as a demand, but as a simple statement of fact.
She closes her eyes briefly, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. When she opens them again, there’s a peace there I haven’t seen before.
I ease her legs down, letting her stand on unsteady feet while keeping her pressed against the wall for support. Water sluices between our bodies. After switching off the water, I help her out of the shower and dry her body before my own. The look in her eyes tells me there’s something on her mind.
Before I can ask, she places her hand on my chest, right above my puzzle tattoo. Her palm presses directly over my heart. “I’m not mad you stalked me,” she says, almost too soft to hear. “Or that you looked into my life, Lorenzo. ”
The way she says my full name makes it clear she’s annoyed she figured it out on her own and didn’t hear it from me. And the fire in her green eyes confirms it.
Fuck, my stubborn toy is perfect. No wonder I want to spend all my time worshiping her.
“But I can’t be yours,” she continues, her fingers tracing the outline of the puzzle piece. “Not until I know who you really are.”
She steps closer. Her breath ghosts over my chest, and then she licks the skin above my heart in a way that’s fucking lethal to my self-control. A low groan rumbles out of me.
“And until I know your mind as well as I know your heart and body,” she breathes, voice shaking slightly, “I don’t want to see Ben.”
Her words confuse me, but then I get it. When she demanded to see him before, it was a reaction. Now, she’s refusing to embrace the darkness until I’ve proven myself to her. And fuck if that doesn’t make me want to tear the whole fucking world apart just to give her what she’s asking for .